


it's not a femur, but it's the same thing

by noahloveszombies (orphan_account)



Category: Half Life VR But The AI Is Self Aware, Half-Life
Genre: Concussions, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, None Of These Doctors Are Medically Trained
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-04
Updated: 2020-05-04
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:22:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24005812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/noahloveszombies
Summary: where the law of the jungle—the survival of the fittest—rules, no healed femurs are found. the first sign of civilization is compassion, seen in a healed femur.
Relationships: Benrey/Gordon Freeman
Comments: 14
Kudos: 356





	it's not a femur, but it's the same thing

The rocket goes off after Gordon presses the button. It's a bit of a delay, but suddenly the ground and walls are shaking like they're caught in a magnitude ten earthquake, and the room goes white for a few moments. The sound of glass shattering is a brief sensation, until he finally manages to get his bearings, eyes readjusting to normal light and not the kind derived from rockets. The first thing Gordon notices is 'oh, the windows are broken'. The room is completely trashed, despite the blast windows, with pieces of wall laying about and the control console sparking and smashed.

"Is everyone okay?" he yells into the room, eyes landing on the nearest person. "Tommy! Tommy, are you alright?"

Tommy nods, looking shaken but unscathed. "I-I'm fine, Mr. Freeman." There's dust from the debris on his propeller cap, coat, and on the tip of his nose. Gordon gives him a nod, something of an encouraging smile, and turns to the next person. "Bubby, you alright?" he asks. The scientist gets to his feet, dusting himself off. "Well, I'm not a loser, so obviously..." Bubby begins nonchalantly, pausing to dust his own coat off. He looks mostly unharmed, save for a bruise on the left side of his face. "I'm okay." "Good." No time to waste. "Dr. Coomer?" The aforementioned doctor turns to face him. "I'm quite alright, Gordon!" His coat looks a little tattered, but otherwise Dr. Coomer looks fine.

Finally... he almost doesn't want to ask the question. The guy's been nothing but trouble, but Gordon would be lying if he said he wouldn't miss his company. Reluctantly, he turns to look at the final person, the one who stood closest to the windows. "Benrey?"

"Huh?" the guard asks, sounding almost disoriented. There's blood pouring down the front of his face from his nose. "I'm fine."

Gordon double-takes, before immediately proceeding to say, "No, you are _not_ fine, Jesus Christ...!" He can only assume Benrey got hit in the face with a part of the wall. As if trying to prove his point, or genuinely not registering the fact that he's injured, the guard pushes himself to a stand, swaying dangerously on his feet. Gordon immediately rushes to steady him. "Oh my _God,_ Benrey," he breathes, refusing to acknowledge the emotions that are welling up in his chest due to the fact he's so close to Benrey's face because God damn it, he's hurt. The guard looks spacey, staring blankly ahead.

Dr. Coomer suddenly pops up behind the theoretical physicist. "I believe he may have a concussion, Gordon." Gordon suppresses a shriek of fright, instead thanking Dr. Coomer for his input. Benrey _does_ look pretty out of it, so it's not out of the question. Gordon has no idea how to treat, or test for, a concussion, so he tries to remember the symptoms and think of a way to see if the guard is worse off than he looks. Double vision is a symptom, right?

"Hey, Benrey? Can you look at me real quick?" The guard's eyes begin to focus after he says that. Slowly, Gordon takes one hand off of Benrey's shoulder to make a peace sign. "How many fingers am I holding up?"

Benrey squints. "Uhhmm... th.. three? No, four."

Shit.

"Alright, buddy, good job." Shit, shit, _shit._ "We're gonna sit down now, alright?" Thankfully, the guard listens, practically falling into a sitting position. Gordon sinks to the ground with him, and turns to Tommy briefly. "Can you go grab, like, a med kit or something, Tommy?" The young man nods. He lingers, however, before nervously asking, "Is Benrey gonna be alright, Mr. Freeman?" Gordon tries his best to sound reassuring. "He's gonna be just fine, Tommy, I promise." With that, Tommy dashes out into the corridor, and the theoretical physicist redirects his attention back to Benrey. "You still with me, dude?"

The most he gets back is incoherent mumbling. That's not good. Bubby and Dr. Coomer are now both kneeling by Gordon's side. "Oh good, his condition is worsening," Bubby says with a frown. Dr. Coomer's brows are knitted together into a worried expression. "You mustn't allow him to fall asleep, Gordon! He's very prone to catching a case of the Crumbles in his current state!" While Gordon still isn't sure what the 'Crumbles' are, it's probably not a good idea to let someone with an untreated head injury fall asleep.

"Benrey, hey. Hey. You gotta stay awake for me, can you do that?" Gordon says, unaware of how frantic his voice is becoming. The guard blinks, still looking dazed. "...'m tired.." It seems to take so much out of him just to string the words together, breathy and low. "I know, buddy, I know. But you can't fall asleep, okay? You've gotta listen to me, Benrey, you can't fall asleep right now." Footsteps echo from the corridor, and Gordon turns to the doorway just in time to see Tommy dash into view empty-handed. "I'm so sorry, Mr. Freeman, there-!" he pauses, breathing heavily, face flushed. "Th-there weren't any med stations, Mr. Freeman!"

 _"Shit!"_ Gordon curses under his breath. He has no idea how to treat a concussion! "Okay, okay..." "I don't think we have any frozen peas." Bubby pipes up, pronouncing 'peas' like 'peace'. The pieces click in his mind, and Gordon feels like his luck is beginning to turn. "Tommy, toss me a soda." The young man does as he's told, and Gordon catches the small can thrown to him, ice cold. Now he's faced with a dilemma. "Benrey? Benrey, can you hear me?"

A slow nod. Good, that's good. "Can I take off your helmet?" Another slow, yet reluctant nod. Gordon tries his best not to jostle or cause further harm to the guard as he places the can on the ground momentarily, using both hands to slowly pull the helmet off. A wild, unruly head of dark brown hair springs forth, long and messy. Tactfully, Gordon forbids his mind from focusing solely on Benrey's hair as he picks the can of soda back up. Dr. Coomer leans forward, before pointing to where he believes the injury is, and Gordon places the ice cold can against it. Benrey hisses sharply, face contorting, before he quickly relaxes. Bubby hums, before muttering, "Of course one of us had to get a fucking head injury..."

"Be mindful not to freeze his brain!" Dr. Coomer says.

Gordon is.. distracted. There's something about the way Benrey's bangs are long and overgrown, messily falling into his face and partly obscuring his eyes, which are a golden brown color. His hair is such a dark brown it could be mistaken for black, unwashed and falling in cascades down and past his shoulders. Gordon could stare at Benrey for days, drinking in every detail, memorizing them like it's the last time he'll ever see the guard, taking him in like art at an exhibition.

Wait.

No. What is he doing? This is completely wrong, Benrey's an annoying asshole who keeps bugging him for his passport. Not some angelic being with the most mesmerising eyes, sharp features, a low and monotone voice that could put him to sleep if...

Ugh. He'll think about this later.

"Is there any other way to help?" Gordon asks, turning to Bubby and Dr. Coomer, eyes momentarily mourning the loss of something attractive to look at. The doctors look to each other, then to Gordon. "Not without a med kit," Bubby says, with a sigh that sounds more 'oh well, c'est la vie'ish than it should, given the circumstances. "Just don't let it swell, that's bad. Oh, and rest helps, I guess."

Dr. Coomer immediately interjects. "I thought sleeping on an injury gives you the Crumbles." He sounds confused.

Gordon sighs. Bubby seems to know a little more about this, so if rest is good, then rest it is. He turns back to Benrey. "You can go to sleep, if you want." The guard mumbles something to him, and in that moment, Gordon thinks he gets it. All those cheesy romantic movies, the Disney cartoons, the Broadway productions... when the main character looks into their true love's eyes. When Prince Charming met Snow White, and their eyes locked, and they felt it, truly felt that _love_ inside of them... Gordon knows it, now. Gently, with his free hand, Gordon sweeps Benrey's bangs out of his eyes, just enough to see them. The guard's expression softens. He says something else completely unintelligible, almost silent underneath Bubby and Dr. Coomer's passive-aggressive bickering, more Bubby than Coomer, before Benrey falls asleep.

Yeah. He gets it now.


End file.
